CHAPTER 58

On Monday afternoon, Arnie and Reynard jetted back to Miami. They offered Murray a ride but he politely said no. He needed to take his friend home.

On Tuesday morning, he left Nassau on a Delta flight, his seat by the window. Somewhere below him in cargo, there was another passenger, his beloved friend, in a coffin. Sooley loved to tell the stories of his trip from Juba to Orlando the summer before, how it was the first flight for every kid on the team, how they had been so excited they couldn’t sleep the night before, how the trip took thirty hours and by the time it was over they were no longer infatuated with air travel.

That was his first flight. This was his last.

Murray began wiping his eyes before takeoff, and he put his sunglasses back on and wept.

Regardless of how tough he acted in front of Arnie, he was blaming himself and he knew he always would. And so would others. And there was nothing he could do to convince himself or anyone else that he had not failed Sooley.

He bit his lip to keep from sobbing, and he had never ached, physically and emotionally, so much in his life.

· · ·

On Wednesday, Ida and Ernie made the decision to hold the memorial service at The Nest. Central’s President lobbied for this and finally convinced Ida that the school, and especially its students, wanted to pay their respects in a grand way.

Ernie wanted a private ceremony at Sacred Heart Church with a quick burial afterward. At first Ida seemed to lean that way, but Murray agreed with the President because he knew the students wanted to take part in the farewell. Murray was functioning well and taking care of the details. Ida was not.

He posted a statement online announcing the service would be held at 3 p. m. Saturday afternoon at the gym, open to all. A private funeral Mass would be held the following day at the church.

Then he dealt with the press. Would it have access? Could the service be televised? Who would be speaking? Would there be music, and by whom? Murray battled away and had several conversations with Campus Security.

· · ·

The autopsy report contained no surprises. The illegal drug MDMA, an acronym for its chemical name 3, 4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine, and commonly known as Ecstasy or Molly or any one of a dozen other street names, was present in the body. The one pill found in Sooley’s shorts was a tablet containing 120 milligrams of MDMA. At least two and perhaps three were taken in the five hours before death. The lab that made that tablet also added caffeine, ephedrine, and cocaine. His blood alcohol level was. 20. The deceased was quite intoxicated. Marijuana was also present in the blood. His body temperature increased to a dangerous level and resulted in total kidney failure, the cause of death.

Arnie’s lawyers in Nassau succeeded in preventing the autopsy report from being released.

· · ·

The backboards were raised. The court was covered by rows of perfectly matched folding chairs, all filled. The gym was packed—the floor, the movable bleachers, the permanent seats, the aisles. The mourners sat still and somberly as a ladies’ choir sang a soft funeral hymn. When they finished, there was a noise in the rear and a door opened. A priest in a white robe appeared and the casket was behind him. All 4, 000 stood and turned to watch the procession. Eight Eagles walked beside the casket, each with one hand on it. Behind, two by two were the rest of the team, then the coaches, led by Lonnie Britt, who held his wife’s hand. Behind the coaches was the family—all of the Walkers, Ida and Ernie first, Murray and Jordan, then Brady.

The procession moved slowly down the center aisle as a string quartet played “Amazing Grace. ” They parked Sooley at the foot of a makeshift stage and below a pulpit borrowed from a church. The priest motioned for all to sit and by the time the crowd settled in, women were sobbing. Another mournful hymn from the choir only rattled the emotions even more.

Murray, out of frustration, had finally banned all cameras, except for ESPN. They had agreed to broadcast it live and share footage with other outlets. When Lonnie Britt walked to the podium he knew he was facing a wide audience.

He began with “Sooley. Sooley. By the time you said his name, and saw that smile, you knew that you loved him. ” With the composure, cadence, and preparation of a seasoned preacher, he talked about the kid from South Sudan. No one fought to hold back tears, including his coach.

After another hymn, Murray stepped forward to struggle through a eulogy he still could not believe he was being called upon to give. He choked up, battled on, got a few laughs, and finally quit when he was overcome. He returned to his seat beside Ida, who patted his knee and whispered, “Nice job. I love you. ”

On big screens, they ran a collage of Sooley bantering with reporters, of him soaring through the air with unforgettable dunks, of him bombing away from mid-court. He never missed, and the crowd managed to cheer and cry at the same time.

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